Ultimate Teen Titans: Deadlocked
by Whenntooda
Summary: UTT Episode Four. Wadey Wilson survived the fire. He was reborn as Deadlock, the most effective mercenary in Gotham. His new target: Bruce Wayne. Only Dick Grayson, Nightwing can help him now. But does he want to? Artwork by Aka-Shiro, courtesy of deviantART.
1. Chapter I: Identity Crisis

****Okay, I'm making a revision of my earlier amendment. I will publish one chapter, the opening chapter of all of my stories. But then I won't update until I complete it. We'll try this system out.

**Ultimate Teen Titans**

**Deadlocked**

**Chapter I**

**Identity Crisis**

_"Robin, why are you saying this?_

_ "Because I have to, Star. We can't keep seeing each other like this. It's bad for our teamwork._

_ "But... I thought you liked me..."_

_ "I do. Really, Star, I do... but we have to be friends. And friends only."_

_ "Robin, I thought we had already talked about this. About being more than superheroes..."_

_ "Well, I'm not a superhero. And stop calling me Robin... it's Nightwing now."_

* * *

**_Titans' Tower, somewhere off of San Francisco Bay._**

Dick Grayson had had better days.

A few days ago, he had broken off his relationship with Starfire. It was a decision he had regretted since.

Regretted, but not questioned... he knew his reasons. He had to be more aloof, as was his responsibilities as team leader. He couldn't keep feeling heart failure every time Starfire was hurt. But even he couldn't detach himself completely from his feelings.

But more that, he also felt betrayed. Not by Starfire... but by Batman.

* * *

_"Say what?"_

_ "I'm sorry, Dick. But there's more to this than you know."_

_ "Okay, first, you try to take my teammate away from the Titans. Now you take my identity..."_

_ "I'm not taking it. I'm recreating it. And you should meet Tim, he's a fine young man."_

_ "I'm Robin! Why do you have to take this away from me?! You've done nothing but crap all over my life ever since I decided to go solo. Well, thanks a lot, Wayne!"_

* * *

But, truth be told, Dick had been considering making the transition fully from Robin to Nightwing. Because, to be honest, the red and green suit had been getting a little small for him.

_And not just physically, too._

Because Robin would always be proceeded by "Batman and-." He had known that in his heart. So why deny it?

Because he had loved being Robin. But now he had to move on, grow up... face the night.

He kept remembering the look on Starfire's face when he had told her to stop calling him Robin. He kept picturing Bruce's face when he had spat out _Wayne_.

_I'm seventeen, and already I've hurt those closest to me. Well done, Grayson. Can't wait till you graduate high school..._

Suddenly there was a knock on his door. He looked up, then walked over to it, pressing a button.

The door slid open with a _hiss. _There stood Peter Parker, Spider-Man. He was dressed in a combat training version of his costume, blue and red, but without the webs and spider symbols.

"Hey, Dick," he said. He always called him by his real name, except when they were in public. None of the others did that. "Wanna practice some of those new aerial moves?"

Dick almost said no, but then reconsidered.

"Sure," he said.

* * *

"Uph!"

Peter's breath was blown out in a gasp as Dick hurled him out of mid-air onto the opposite wall. He fell with a crash, moaning slightly.

Dick immediately felt bad.

"Are you okay?" he said, holding out his hand. Peter grabbed it, using it as leverage to pull himself to his feet.

"Yeah, fine," Peter said. And indeed he was. That was another reason why Dick liked him so much... he could take a beating where the others couldn't. "You really... got the hang of that spinning kick, there."

"Long hours of practice," Dick said, going over to the towels and tossing Peter one. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Long hours of getting my butt kicked," Peter said. "You learn when to take blows and when to dodge."

That was true, Dick reminded himself. He had the benefit of training from the best. Peter had to learn his abilities on his own.

They sat on the bench in silence for a while, wiping the sweat of their faces. Finally, Peter spoke.

"How're you holding up?" he asked, glancing at Dick.

"What do you mean?" Dick asked him, choosing his words carefully. Peter scoffed.

"Oh, come on," he said. "I may be a mediocre fighter, but I've been through the dating game too. With probably less success than you have. Trust me..." he added, hitting Dick on the shoulder. "... there's nothing you've seen that I haven't."

Dick took a deep breath.

"Okay..." he said. "I had to break up with Starfire. Remember when we fought Mad Mod? When Beast Boy almost died because I was too concerned about her safety? That's why."

Peter was silent for a moment.

"Sounds to me like you're punishing yourself for being a lousy leader," Peter finally said. "No offense, you can lead this team, but you haven't yet found a balance."

"Balance?" Dick repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Balance between who you are, and what you're willing to sacrifice," Peter said. "I never joined a team on my world. And not just because no team would have me. Because I wasn't willing to trust someone enough to make that call that might hurt someone close to me."

He was silent for a moment. Dick saw the truth in what he said.

"What do you suggest?" he asked.

"Take a break," Peter said. "Go on a vacation. Discover yourself. Are you gonna be Nightwing now, or what?"

Dick thought about this.

"Yes," he said at last. "I think I will."

* * *

Okay! Let the waiting game begin! BTW, Wadey Wilson will be returning in this story, so hang in there!


	2. Chapter II: I Am Deadlock

****And here it is! The story you've all been waiting for!

**Chapter II**

**I Am Deadlock**

Wadey Wilson looked at his face in the mirror. That was something he hadn't been able to do for five years. Not because he hadn't had a mirror, but because he didn't have a face.

That was before. But then... and here his memory got hazy. All he remembered was Slade Wilson, his brother, and a fire, and explosion. Instead of burning in the flame and dying, Wade had felt his body be rejuvenated by it. The skin and muscle regrew over his cybernetic implants, and he felt his lips, eyelids, and ears form.

Now he looked at himself in the mirror of the dingy hotel he was staying at. He was blond. That was interesting. He had started out with no hair, but then it had grown, shooting upward. He had it now at a manageable length. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, but very big, very expressive. His mouth was shaped oddly, with a smile that said _trust me while I plug you twice in the head_.

"Been a while," he said out loud. "Hello, handsome."

His insanity, which had started ever since being blown up on Genosha, had gone away. He was in his right mind. And he burned with a hatred for Spider-Man.

But his memories of recent events were blurred. All he knew was that he was in a world where the Ultimates, S.H.I.E.L.D., the X-Men, and mutants didn't exist. Well, perhaps mutants existed, but he couldn't find reference to them. Everything else was the same. There were other superheroes. The Justice League of America, the Teen Titans, the Watchmen, which he wasn't supposed to know about but he did.

Wadey knew them all. And yet, still he couldn't remember.

He still felt the cybernetic enhancements working under his skin. He was still stronger, faster, and smarter than a normal human being. So what was he going to do with his life?

_All I ever wanted was to travel to far off, exotic locations, meet new and exiting people..._

_ And then kill them._

_ So, I'll become a mercenary._

But what should he call himself? Not Deadpool... no, if he was to leave his homeworld behind, he would leave his name as well. But he did like the whole "dead" theme. He could run off his brother, Deathstroke's reputation.

_I know... Deadrot._

_ No, too weird._

_ Deathpool? Deadstroke? Deadwhore?_

_ No, I got it..._

He smiled once again as he looked in the mirror.

"Dead... lock," he said. "There. I am Deadlock."

* * *

Two guards stood on watch in the dark, lower levels of GothamCity. They were guarding the house of James and Cindy Falcone, the newest generation of the Falcone crime family. They had just started out their criminal enterprise.

Shame it was going to end so soon.

There was a soft, _slice_... and the guards' heads fell off their necks. Their bodies followed them to the ground.

A soft shadow passed over them, and the front door was opened.

Several guards were inside. They were lounging around, some reading magazines, some cleaning guns, some eating fruit. They all looked up at the black and red clad ninja that had just entered the house.

"Hi, guys," Deadlock said casually. "I'd have used the window, but I want to make a point, so you can just try to stop me now before I kill your bosses."

The gangsters reacted instantly. They all pulled out firearms of various sizes, and opened fire.

Deadlock had already been moving before the deadly projectiles had left the barrels. He flipped over two men, slaying them with razor sharp shruiken. He then grabbed their guns, one a shotgun the other a pistol, and wiped out another five men. Blood splattered the walls behind them.

Next, Deadlock raised his eyes to the ceiling. He threw a small explosive up, blowing a hole in it and the floor of the story above. He leapt up, throwing more grenades at the remaining gangsters.

"What do they make these houses outta these days?" he asked aloud as he reached the second floor. "The idiots who sell 'em should be flayed alive and fed to rats. Of course, that's only my opinion."

James Falcone was ready. He had a shotgun pointed right at Deadlock. He ignored it, instead firing his own stolen shotgun at him.

He blew a hole in Falcone's chest. He landed on the opposite wall, slumping to the ground, and was still.

A woman screamed. Deadlock turned to see Cindy Falcone on the bed, her face a picture of horror, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked with terror on the black mask with small white eyes. Deadlock didn't say a word.

He cocked the shotgun. He loved the loud _cha-cha_ it made when it loaded a new cartridge into the barrel.

He raised it up, one handed, no small feat of strength. With another loud blast, he blew Cindy Falcone's head off.

And then it was silent. Until the police sirens could be heard in the distance.

By which time, Deadlock was gone.

* * *

"The Falcones are dead."

"I know. You made quite a little impression with your... theatrics."

Tom Harrison looked this new mercenary up and down. He was clad in a black ninja outfit with red details. He was unarmed, but Harrison knew that didn't mean a thing. If this truly was Slade Wilson's brother, then weapons were meaningless. His voice was cheerful, but controlled.

"You said you wanted it clear that crime wasn't gonna be tolerated in Gotham," Deadlock replied. "So, I gave the message. Will there be anything else?"

Harrison looked at the file on his desk. It was an outline of a plan that he and a few others were going to put into action. It involved political intrigue, backstabbing, and a large scale coup... and "Deadlock" here was only a small cog in the giant machine. But an important one.

He looked up.

"Your actions will certainly scare the crime in Gotham," Harrison said. "Perhaps more so than the Batman. Which brings me to my next point."

Deadlock exhaled forcefully.

"You want me to kill the Batman," he said. Harrison raised his eyebrows.

"You're an intelligent man," he said, not really surprised. "Yes. And no."

"No?"

"We don't want you to kill the Batman," Harrison went on. "We do, however, want this man out of the way."

He brought up a news channel of a story of Bruce Wayne giving a hefty donation to some charity. Deadlock stared at the screen for a few minutes, then chuckled.

"Clever," he said. "Very clever. I suppose..." he said, turning to Harrison, "that this very rich and caring individual is the secret identity of Bats?"

Harrison nodded.

"Can I ask how you know?"

"You can find out for yourself," Harrison said. "We want you to kill him. But make it very honorable. We want Bruce Wayne, Gotham's favorite son, to be a hero. But we still want Batman."

Deadlock scratched his head.

"Ah," he said at last. "You have your own Batman ready to take over."

Harrison nodded again.

"I don't care how you do it," Harrison said. "But your objective it this; kill Bruce Wayne, don't reveal that he's Batman, and..." He paused. "You have one week."

Deadlock considered this.

"How much is Wayne worth?" he asked finally.

"With or without Wayne Enterprises' cash flow?" Harrison clarified.

"Without," he replied. "I don't want too much to disappear at once."

"What do you mean?"

"I want two thirds of however much Wayne has," Deadlock said. Harrison did a quick mental calculation. Well, if that was the price...

"Done."

"Not yet, it's not."

Deadlock turned to walk away. He stopped halfway to the door.

"Btw, who else can I kill in this job?"

"Anyone who gets in the way," Harrison replied. "But stop short of the population of Gotham."

He could have sworn he heard Deadlock say _dammit_ as he left the room.

* * *

And we have our new villain/mercenary... Deadlock! For Marvel fans, his costume is pretty much Ronin, except the gold is red. Just to give you a mental image.


	3. Chapter III: Trouble In Arkham

****This chapter fits in between Arkham Asylum and Arkham City. Heads up.

**Chapter III**

**Trouble In Arkham**

ArkhamCity. The entire town was a cesspool of danger and destruction.

It was Wadey Wilson's kinda town.

He straightened his tie. He was wearing a dark suit, and carrying an attaché case. It had been a while since he had done a covert ops job. He was in here for a reason though.

"Severe case of narcissism," the nurse was saying as they walked down the hallways of the Asylum. "Delusions of insanity in others, and a complete lack of sense of right and wrong."

"Sounds dangerous," Wadey said, looking concerned, though secretly liking the description. "Shouldn't he be in prison?"

The nurse looked up at Wadey with a steely glint in her eyes.

"Mr. Wilson, Arkham is a prison," she said. "He won't be getting out of here in a hurry."

"Figures," Wadey said. "Now, what's his real name?"

"John Doe," the nurse said. "We have no clue. He insists of being called his identity, but he allowed one of the shrinks to call him 'Mr. J.'"

"Fascinating," Wadey said absently. They arrived at the door, Room 24601. "This is it?"

"Yes," the nurse said, but she grabbed Wade's arm. "Be careful. A few minutes conversation with him caused one of the guards to commit suicide."

"Got it," Wadey said, winking. He waited for her to unlock the door, then walked in.

"Good evening, Mr. J," he said, going over the table and sitting down.

A face hidden by white face paint stared at him with blackened eyes. It would have looked like a skull but for the bright red... _smile_ that seemed carved onto the edges of the mouth. It was carved.

This was the Joker. And he seemed unperturbed by his situation.

"Hi," he said, his voice drawling over the syllable. "Are you my lawyer?" His voice carried no hint of sarcasm about it, but Wadey knew that he didn't actually want a lawyer.

"No, Mr. J, I am not," he said, chuckling. "I represent a very rich man. I have a proposition for you."

"Will it get me out of here?" the Joker asked, one eyebrow raised. He seemed to be always moving, twitching and waving, but he was never still.

"Oh, yes, it will," Wadey said, knowing that his time was now limited. "See, my employer wishes me to kill an individual, someone who the Batman seems to be protecting."

The Joker's mouth twitched at the mention of Batman. He licked his lips, running his tongue over his scars, snake-like.

"And?" he asked. "Are you a mercenary? Because I know the kind folks who run this well-maintained institution will probably be going nuts when they hear you talking."

"Oh, they will," Wadey agreed. "That's why I don't have much time."

"Here's the deal; I'm about to destroy this building. How? I'm going to unlock all of the doors and let everybody out. This is what I want you to do."

"I want you to mobilize everyone here into an army, with the sole purpose of murdering, raping, and plundering Gotham. I want the Batman to be distracted, and maybe even killed in the process. I only need one shot."

The Joker eyed Wadey curiously.

"You seem like the kind of guy who does things for the hell of it," he remarked. "You don't really need the Batman distracted, do you? You're just causing all of this because...?"

Wadey nodded.

"Because it's fun," he said. "Many things appeal to me, but violence most of all. So, we got a deal?"

The Joker looked up at the ceiling. The alarm klaxons were going off.

"Is that for you?"

"Probably," Wadey said. "The door's gonna open any minute now. When it does... will you go to Gotham?"

The Joker smiled, revealing yellow teeth.

"Wouldn't go anywhere else," he hissed.

* * *

Wadey walked out of the room as the door unlocked. He heard distant explosions and screams. He chuckled to himself as he took off his clothes, revealing the suit of Deadlock underneath. He pulled the mask on just as security guards rounded the corner. He held his hands up.

"I am unarmed," he said as they pointed their guns at him. _.50 Magnums. Nice. _"But I don't see you as a threat. I see you guys as..."

He flipped over them, ripping the magnums out of their hands, blowing their heads out.

"... walking ammo caches."

He held his newly acquired weapons out, ready to destroy the next thing in his way. A man in prisoner's orange appeared, with black hair and an insane look on his face.

"Busy night?" he asked Deadlock. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem," he said, walking around the Scarecrow. "Give Batman a kick in the ass for me, willya?"

"Can do," Scarecrow said, tipping a salute in his direction.

Deadlock continued on his way out. He saw a lot of famous criminals bust out, and he knew that it was all worth it.

* * *

Dick Grayson looked at his Nightwing uniform. Completely black, no utility belt, with an ice-blue wing going up the chest, down the arms and ending in the middle and third fingers.

He liked it. It had no cape, and he would have to carry around fewer gadgets than before, but he was fine with that. It forced him to adapt a new fighting style, one suited to his new weapons, two black billy-clubs.

When he put it on, he liked the way it enhanced his natural physique. It boosted his strength and speed, as well as providing the kind of protection that his cape used to. The exclusion of the cape was another thing he liked. It made him more compact, more... cool.

"Beautiful. A work of art."

"Okay, don't break your arm patting yourself on the back..." Peter said, rolling his eyes. But there was something in his voice that made Dick turn.

"What?" he asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"Well..." Peter said, looking at the blue wing. "I once wore a black suit. It turned out to be a biological parasite that tried to eat my brains and get me to kill people. I just have bad memories with black costumes."

Dick's mouth dropped.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, he is," Raven said. She was sitting next to Peter, and now was gazing at him thoughtfully.

These two were the only Titans that Dick felt he could show his new suit to. Starfire had tried to get him to wear a ridiculously rakish costume that opened up in the chest about halfway down his pectorals. But that was before he had broken up with her.

"So you're saying I shouldn't wear a black suit because it might take over my mind and try to eat me?" he asked sardonically.

"Yep, pretty much," Peter said cheerfully. "Seriously, I think the black is a bit much."

"I don't," Raven argued. "It goes well with his new name."

"Yeah, and very original, I might add," Peter said, standing up. "Isn't there a hero in Gotham named 'Redwing?'"

Dick nodded.

"But he's completely different," he went on. "He was never Robin."

"Okay, I don't know what that has to do with any-,"

"Uh, guys?" Raven said, pointing at the TV. "Speaking of Gotham..."

They turned their attention to the screen. On the news there was a report of a mass breakout in Arkham Asylum. Dick's mouth fell open as he read the names of the criminals who escaped.

_The Joker..._

_ Scarecrow..._

_ The Riddler..._

_ Bane..._

_ Oh, my god. What happened?_

"Seems like someone doesn't want peace in that area," Peter commented. "That looks like quite a handful for even Batman."

"Why not?" Dick said, feeling spiteful. "He's got another Robin to help him out, and Redwing."

Peter looked at Dick. He hung his head, feeling ashamed.

"You know that vacation I was talking about?" Peter said. "Why don't you take it? Patch things up with the Batman and become Nightwing."

"What, go to Gotham?" Dick asked. "Last time the Titans were in Gotham..."

"Yeah, we know," Raven said. She hadn't appreciated Bane shooting Peter in the arm. "But Peter's got a point."

Dick sighed.

"I hate it when you're right."

"Only when you're wrong."

* * *

Author's Note: The "ridiculously rakish costume" was in fact Nightwing's first costume, from the 80s. I actually thought it looked cool, but it wouldn't work here. Also, did anyone get the "Les Miserables" reference?


	4. Chapter IV: Clipped Wings

**Chapter IV**

**Clipped Wings**

Batman looked out at the scene. It was a nightmare. Destruction and fires were rampant in the area. Arkham Asylum was completely destroyed. But every single criminal in the complex had survived and escaped.

_Who could, or would do this?_

"Really chills your blood, doesn't it?"

Batman swung around at the sound of the voice. A figure in a black ninja outfit was lounging against one of the remaining support struts. His arms were crossed, and he wasn't looking at Batman. He carried an impressive looking katana on his waist.

"Who are you?" Batman rasped. "And why do I think you had something to do with this?"

"You don't mince words," the man said. His voice seemed oddly familiar. "Although a casual _hi, nice to meet you _might have been more acceptable."

"I asked you a question," Batman said. The man laughed.

"And I didn't answer it," he rejoined. "What are you going to do about it? Is there anything you can do about it?"

"Oh, yes, there is!" Batman breathed harshly. He lunged at the man, but he was already moving.

"Wow, you're fast," the man said. "But I'm faster."

"Are you sure about that?" Batman asked, swinging his leg around, tripping the man up. He landed with a hard _thump_.

"Ow, my ass!" he yelled. "That was my tailbone!"

"And this is your solar plexus," Batman said, jumping on top of him, driving his gauntlet deep into his opponent's stomach. His breath blew out in a gasp.

"Ah! Not bad," he coughed. "But I'm tougher than that."

He then delivered a flurry of punches that weren't meant to hurt, just to push Batman back. Finally, he brought a leg up in a coil, unleashing a kick that Batman felt through his armor. It launched him upwards and off of the man.

He landed in a heap. His cape became tangled. A simple flip of his wrist sent electrical jolts through it, straightening it.

This action was all the advantage that his opponent needed. He grabbed Batman's shoulder, spinning him around, landing a punch on the one spot in all of Batman's costume that wasn't protected... his jaw.

_Crack._

Batman felt his jaw dislocate from the force of the punch. And he knew that he needed to fight dirtier.

He brought his boot up, kicking the man's groin. He hit it with a metal clunk.

"What the hell?" he said, looking down. The man laughed.

"Metal balls!" he yelled. "No, seriously, they're steel!"

He brought his arm back and then punched Batman's chest. Pain shot through his body as his armor splintered under the blow. He fell back.

"Okay, time to end this."

He heard the rasp as the katana was drawn from its sheath. The ninja held it up high.

"Don't take this personally," he said. "You're a really good fighter."

He brought it down hard into Batman's stomach. He felt cold steel in his abs. He gasped as fire infiltrated his nerves.

"I'm just better, that's all."

Darkness crept on the edges of Batman's vision. He didn't want to die like this...

* * *

_"... Wally, I just don't know what to do..."_

_ "... and learn how, in the next five minutes, you too can make a million dollars...!"_

_ "... recent reports that Bruce Wayne has just been brutally attacked..."_

_ "... love you, you love me, we're a happy..."_

"Whoa, wait, go back!"

Dick looked up from his deafeningly loud boom box blasting Coolio. Beast Boy was sprawled on the couch, flipping randomly through channels. He jumped at the urgent tone in Dick's voice, but switched back to the new report.

_"... getting rumors that Batman had saved Bruce Wayne's life, but he didn't escape without injury."_

Dick stared as Bruce was seen, heavily bandaged, waving at the crowd. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

_"No comment has been made..."_

"I have to go to Gotham," Dick said, standing up. Beast Boy looked at him.

"Okay, dude," he said. "Cyborg can have the T-Jet up and running in no time..."

"No."

Beast Boy stopped dead. He had already gotten up to tell Cy, but he now stared at Dick.

"Whaddya mean, no?" he asked, looking at him.

"This is something I have to do," Dick said. "Alone. Without the Titans."

"But, dude...!"

"I agree."

Both of them spun to see Spider-Man walking in. He was looking seriously at Dick.

"I think now's a good time to be Nightwing," he said. "And make things up with Bruce."

Dick nodded.

"I'll leave Cyborg in charge," he said. He turned to pack.

* * *

As he was about to get into the T-Jet, Dick heard a voice behind of him.

"Robin?"

He closed his eyes. Slowly, he turned around.

"Yes, Starfire?"

Star was standing there, her hands clasped in front of her, one knee slightly bent. She was looking at the ground.

"Goodbye," she said softly. He grunted acknowledgement back before climbing into the pilot's pod.

Before it closed, he stopped.

"Star, listen..." he said, looking up. But she was gone.

_Dammit._


	5. Chapter V: The Bat Family

**Chapter V**

**The Bat Family**

John Blake, former police detective, stared at the scene before him. A fire had demolished a multi-story building in the Narrows. A dangerous group of individuals stood in front of him, all of them killers, some of them trained, all of them deadly. They were being led by the Scarecrow, who had gotten his mask back.

In the old days, John would have gotten a considerable distance backward, calling for backup while pulling his gun on them telling them they were all under arrest.

But that was before he became Redwing.

He leapt into the fray, using his superior training to beat most of the criminals back, while launching several Batarangs that embedded themselves into the thugs just enough that a sleeping agent could be effective. Scarecrow shot some of his fear inducing toxin into Redwing's face. He merely coughed this off, having been immunized to it by Lucius Fox.

"Oh, another one of Batman's relatives?" Scarecrow asked, sounding sardonically annoyed. "This is getting tedious."

"So are you," Redwing responded, knocking him out with a punch to the temple. He loved his gauntlets.

At that moment, another explosion rent the air. Redwing felt himself being blasted backward into the wall of another building. He felt the air in his lungs being forced out.

"Oh, sh-,"

He barrel-rolled away from where he had just been, as the flaming structure fell against the opposite building.

Redwing stood up, feeling that he had had better days.

"This is gonna be tough," he said out loud. And then he got a call on his private line built directly into his communicator in his mask.

"This had better be who I hope it is," he said, putting two fingers to the side of his mask, which was unnecessary, but he was realizing that it was becoming a nervous tick.

The voice on the other line was distorted by the frequency, but still familiar.

_"Well, knowing you, Blake, you're hoping this is Megan Fox..."_

"Ha, ha," Redwing said sarcastically. "Beneath me, Grayson... so totally beneath me."

_"You wish. Where are you?"_

"Why, you got a ride?"

_"I do. You have to get to a rooftop to access it, but I've got one."_

"Just head to the Cave. We'll brief you when you get there."

He closed the communicator link, suddenly thinking about how awkward it would be when Dick met Tim...

* * *

Dick landed the T-Jet inside the large, capacious space inside the BatCave. It was like coming home.

_No, I have a home... and it's not here._

He got out, landing on the ground with a wet _splash_.

"Ah, dammit," he said, looking down. "Where did that come from?"

"Slick."

He looked up, seeing a costume and a face that was familiar and welcome.

"Hey, Steph," he said, shaking his boot a little bit. "Bruce shanghaied you too?"

Stephanie Brown, aka Batgirl stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. Her curly blond hair was straightened, and in a ponytail. Her black costume with yellow highlights complimented her form very well. She shook her head.

"Nope, I volunteered," she said. "So did you, I think."

"Saw the news," Dick said, giving her a hug. When they broke apart, he held her at arms length. "How is he?"

She jerked her head.

"Recovering," she said. "That mercenary son of a bitch really did a number on him."

"Do we know who he is?" Dick said, walking with her to the main command center. She shook her head.

"No clue," she said. "We have footage from Bruce's cowl camera, though. Wait till you see it. This guy's unbelievable."

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised-,"

But Dick cut himself off as he saw the ensemble of costumed vigilantes in the command center, circling a young woman in a wheelchair.

"Finally!" Redwing said, standing up. "I thought you had a jet."

"I do," Dick answered, looking around at everyone. "I only know about three people here. Intros, anyone?"

"Nice to see you too, Dick," Barbara Gordon said, letting Dick hug her. "Well, this is Redwing, John Blake."

"Yeah, I know him," Dick said, flicking John's red wing symbol. "You bit my style."

"You bit mine!" John protested. "I had it first. What are you, Bluewing?"

"And over there is Huntress," Barbara said, pointing at a young woman perched on one of the consoles. She was dressed in a two piece, revealing suit with straps and belts that hung a lot of gadgets. She wore a mask that formed into two points above her head. "Her real name is Helena Bertinelli."

Huntress flashed a dazzling smile at Dick, and he felt his mouth go dry.

"And this is Tim Drake, the new, uh... Robin."

A young teen, probably about fourteen, stood nervously in front of Dick. His costume was different from Dick's old Robin togs. Instead of red and green, it was red and black, with a completely black cape. His mask was identical to Dick's old one.

He held out his hand nervously. Dick stared at him for a while, then too it.

"Hi," he said. "I'm a big fan."

"Really?" Dick said, thrown off. "Of what?"

"Of you," Tim said. "You're the most amazing acrobat of our time!"

Dick never thought of himself like that. True, he could do a quadruple summersault that few others could do, but he had never thought that he would be admired for it.

He shook himself out of his daze.

"Uh, yeah," he said, letting go of Tim's hand. "Well, my name's Dick Grayson, and I'm calling myself Nightwing."

"See? You are biting my style," John complained mockingly. "At least you didn't go with _Bluewing_..."

"If only because you suggested it," Dick came back. "Now, where's that footage?"

Barbara touched a few keys on the console in front of her. Everyone turned their attention to the massive screen.

Dick frowned as he saw, from Batman's POV, a man lounging against a pillar. He was clad in a black ninja outfit, with a lighter color detailing it, but at this res Dick couldn't make it out.

"Is there audio?" he asked Barbara, who hit another key. They all heard a voice come through the speakers, a little scraggly from the static.

_"... don't mince words," _a voice, not Batman's rasp, said. Dick furrowed his brow, recognizing the voice slightly, but he was unable to place it at the moment. _"Although a casual hi, nice to meet you might have been more acceptable."_

"Great," Dick heard John mutter. "A smartass."

They watched as Batman engaged the ninja in battle. They all winced when they saw the blows that Bruce had taken.

John and Tim cheered as Batman landed a kick on the ninja's groin. But they stopped an instant later as the ninja said _"Metal balls! No, seriously, they're steel!"_

Something clicked in Dick's memory at the words, the inflection, and the tone. The next second, the ninja had stood up, punching Batman in the torso. The screen fizzled and went dark.

"The assassin damaged some minor circuits with that punch," Barbara explained. "But it really did some damage to the actual armor, so that says super-strength right there. Aside from martial arts training, we don't know anything about this guy."

"I do," Dick said, and everyone stared at him. Even he was startled, but there was no doubt in his mind. "He's wearing a different costume, and he's carrying a different weapons, but I recognized his voice. His name's Wade Wilson, and he's a deranged mercenary."

"Wilson, Wilson..." Stephanie repeated. "Not related to Slade Wilson, by any chance?"

"His brother," Dick said. "From another universe."

They all stared at him. Helena merely yawned.

"So, is he as good as Deathstroke?" John asked. "That's the more important question."

"Well, last time we met, he betrayed Slade to help out the Titans," Dick said, casting his mind back to six months ago. "He captured all of us, and had us drugged except for me. He gave me Spider-Man's webshooters, so that I could escape while he created a diversion by having a mock battle with Spidey."

"Wait, I remember that," John said. "He broadcast the entire fight to all of the superhero teams. I was hanging with Bruce that day, I remember it. Wasn't Spider-Man's name... I don't remember it..."

"Good," Dick said. "It's not important. Anyway, Wilson used an identity, called himself 'Deadpool.' He had a different costume then, too. He killed a lot of civilians, though. He wasn't innocent by a long stretch. We thought he died when the warehouse we were in blew up."

"But why'd he betray you?" Steph asked. "Isn't he Slade's bro?"

"Like I said, he's out of his mind," Dick said. "But then, he's supposed to be dead, too."

"Like that's ever gonna make a difference," Helena interjected. "Death doesn't seem to stop a lot of supervillains."

"True," John said. "Unfortunate, but true."

Dick was looking at Tim. The kid wasn't saying anything, just drinking in the conversation, alert, making mental notes. That was good. But now Dick wanted to put him on the spot. If he was to be Robin, he had to come up with a good answer.

"What do you think, Tim?" he asked him. He jumped.

"Oh, uh, about what?" he spluttered. "Which part?"

"About anything," Dick prompted. Tim frowned, putting one fist under his chin, the other arm supporting his elbow.

"Well, I think one question we haven't asked ourselves yet is..." he said slowly, "is why he's targeting Bruce. And why he didn't kill him. And if he had anything to do with the Arkham breakout."

Dick was impressed. Those were very perceptive questions. Indeed, questions which hadn't occurred to Dick, or, judging by the looks on everyone else' faces, neither had anyone. But he had to keep testing Tim.

"Good questions," he said. "Got any answers?"

"Well, he might have broken out the inmates to create confusion," Tim said. "Make things more difficult for Bruce until he could strike when he was vulnerable. As for why, you just said he's a mercenary. He might just be hired to do this. But I'm not sure why he didn't kill Bruce... although I'm sure we'll find that out."

"Wow," John said, clapping Tim on the shoulder. "Been reading Sherlock Holmes much?" Tim grinned self consciously. But Dick was satisfied. This kid was smart.

_Kid? He's only like, three years younger than me._

"Okay, so what I think we should do is..."

"Whoa, wait, hold up," John said, motioning with his hands to stop. "Who made you leader?"

Dick stopped, realizing that he had fallen unconsciously into team leader mode. He needed to be more loose.

"Sorry," he said. "I wasn't aware you were."

"He's not," Barbara said. "I am. I'm your eyes and ears from here. And if you were about to suggest that we split up and search for this Wade Wilson, yes, that's what I was going to say. And at the same time, stop the criminals from running amok."

"Amok," Helena repeated, giggling. Dick stared at her.

"Yeah," he said, tearing his gaze away. "So, what about Bruce? Can I see him?"

He wasn't sure why he was asking. He just needed to see for himself that his former trainer was okay.

* * *

John Blake's costume is pretty much Dark Knight, except with a grey hood and cloak, and a domino mask. He has red details and, of course, the red wing symbol.


	6. Chapter VI: A Better Class Of Criminal

**Chapter VI**

**A Better Class Of Criminal**

The Joker had a broad smile on his face, heavily emphasized by the makeup and scars. Things were going great.

"Chaos," he said out loud. "Looks like I'm not the only agent thereof."

He looked out at the scene of a battle. Common thugs and crooks, both inmates and the ones who had managed to stay out of jail, had united and were causing complete destruction of Gotham, one piece at a time.

Joker kept thinking back to his meeting with Wilson. The merc was a man after the Joker's own heart, if he had one. But all of this was so that he could kill the Batman.

Oh, well... it was a small price to pay to see this carnage now. He'd just have to find another superhero to become his arch-nemesis. Maybe Superman, or the Flash... but they just weren't as fun as the Batman.

The Joker saw a truck explode, and hooted with laughter. Better to enjoy this now, and think about possible enemies later.

He never looked up to see one potential candidate swing down from a wire to land a kick on the back of his head.

* * *

Dick stood by Bruce's bedside, looking down into his face. He was bruised, and his jaw was bandaged so he couldn't talk. He was sleeping, medicated from the pain.

Dick felt tears spring to his eyes. This man was like a father to him, and that last thing he had said to him was... insults.

He fell on his knees, choking back sobs. Seeing Batman broken like this drained him of energy.

"Oh, god," he said. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I'm so sorry. I never meant... I never thought..."

He broke off, overcome with emotion. It was too much. He had to go.

As he changed into his Nightwing suit, the grief and sorrow changed to anger and rage at Wade Wilson. He had done this to Bruce, and had unleashed hell on Gotham. It was time for a little payback.

Even in his emotional state, Dick couldn't help appreciate the irony that Wilson and he had both gone through different costumes, emerging as something new.

_Let's see who survives, huh?_

* * *

"So what, are you being a leader or a cheerleader?" Redwing asked Joker as he punched him back against a wall. Joker laughed.

"I'm just watching from the sidelines," he giggled. "Except, actually, I did start that fire on 22nd and East. That was me, but this here isn't. I didn't do it," he added, a sick parody of a little child caught in misdoing. Redwing felt revulsion.

"You're a sick bastard," he said, kicking him under the chin. "They should have given you the death sentence."

"Ah, but they didn't," the Joker said, as if clarifying a point. Then he pulled out his knife. "Do you want to know how I got these scars?"

"Shut UP!" Redwing yelled, roundhouse kicking the knife out of Joker's hand. But while he was momentarily with his back turned, the Joker pushed him, knocking him off-balance.

"Whoops," he said as Redwing sprawled in the dirty street. "Sorry 'bout that."

Redwing snarled, spinning around, flipping up on his feet. As he did so, he found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol.

"I can see you're gonna be a problem," he said, flicking the safety off. "And I don't have time for cheap knock-offs."

"Do you have time for me?" said a voice above Joker.

Before Redwing or the Joker could look up, a black shape had collided with the gun arm. Redwing heard a snap as bone broke.

"Ah!" gasped the Joker. "What is with you guys and dropping down from the air?"

"Trademark," Nightwing said, delivering a flurry of blows to the Joker's face until he was unconscious. He stood up, looking at Redwing.

"I owe you," Redwing said, pointing at Nightwing. He smiled.

"I'll add it to your account," he replied, taking off into the night.

* * *

It was dark in Gotham. Most of the fires had been put out, and the initial wave of criminals had abated. Nightwing now sat perched on the edge of a skyscraper, looking down at the city.

"Some night, huh?"

He looked up to see Huntress sit down next to him, letting her legs dangle over the edge. He shook his head.

"I have no clue who you are," he said. "Sorry. How did you get involved with this?" Huntress shrugged, her curled hair bobbing of her shoulders.

"I'm friends with Oracle," she said. "She called me, asking for help. I didn't volunteer." She looked Nightwing up and down, roving her eye over his muscle definition. "But I'm not complaining."

Nightwing felt a flush creep up his face.

"You didn't see any sign of Wilson, did you?" he asked, partly to remind both of them why they were here. She shook her head.

"Stopped a whole lot of looting, though," she said. "This city's gone to hell in a handbasket."

"That's what we're there for," Nightwing said grimly. "To protect the innocent."

"It's quieted down a lot," Huntress remarked, looking up into the sky. "So, tell me, are you the Robin who leads the Teen Titans?"

"Uh, yeah," Nightwing answered. "But I'm not Robin anymore."

"Mmm, no," she remarked. "That kid is. Besides..." She leaned closer to Nightwing. "I like this black suit better."

"Um, thanks," he said, feeling his face go red. She giggled, noticing his blush. He felt furious at himself, not to mention heartily embarrassed. He should be more in control of himself.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" she breathed, her breath wafting over his face, warm and sweet-smelling. His brain seemed to have stalled.

"Uhhh... no. I mean, yes. Yes, I am. We are. I mean, we're looking for Wade Wilson..."

"I think we've already found what we're looking for," Huntress whispered, then leaned in closer, pressing her lips against Nightwing's.

Most of his mind shut down, numbed by the sheer feeling of being kissed. The small part of his mind that did work, however, thought _wow, she's aggressive._

Before the kiss could deepen, Nightwing pulled away.

"No," he said aloud. "No, this is... this is wrong..." Huntress put on a hurt look.

"How can it be wrong?" she asked with a pout on her face. Nightwing shook his head.

"I'm... we should be looking for Wade," he said, trying to cover himself. For a moment, he had felt like he was betraying Starfire. But then he realized that they were no longer dating.

_How long will it be before I stop feeling guilty?_

They sat in awkward silence for a while. But at the moment when Nightwing turned to apologize, though he wasn't sure what for, his com beeped.

"Yeah?" he said, a little more harshly than he'd intended. Oracle's voice came through.

_"Redwing has found Wade," _she said. _"He needs backup."_

"We're on our way," Nightwing replied tersely.

* * *

Redwing's head snapped back as the black-clad ninja in front of him, Wade Wilson, chopped his neck. He felt it crick.

He backed away, his cape swirling around him. He viewed his opponent.

"I had expected someone else," Wilson said, sounding slightly disappointed. "This is just embarrassing."

"Really?" Redwing asked, feeling anger rise in him. "Well, screw you, pal. I'm taking you in."

"Sure you are," Wilson said, sounding bored. Redwing adjusted his hood, cracked his neck, and shook his arms, psyching himself up. Wilson noticed this.

"Are you gonna take me on by yourself?" he asked, almost incredulously.

"If that's what it's gonna take," Redwing responded, launching himself at his foe.

Even with his training and performance-enhancing suit, he soon realized that he was outmatched. Wade blocked him at every turn, evaded every blow, not even bothering to strike back. It unnerved Redwing, but it also enforced his resolve and his anger.

"Listen, little Red Riding Hood," he said, flipping over Redwing. "I have orders to kill someone and everyone in my way. I'm giving you a not-so-subtle hint. _Go home. _You have no clue what you're up against. Let the big boys play the game."

"I am one of the big boys," Redwing said through gritted teeth, finally landing a decisive kick on Wilson's back. He fell forward.

"Okay, maybe you have some small talent," said the voice, not out of breath at all. "I guess I have to kill you."

In a flash, he had his massive katana out and Redwing tensed, about to spring out of the way of the stab. But then he realized that Wade was expecting just that. He would kill Redwing no matter where he leapt.

A black flash came out of nowhere. It slammed into the flat of the blade, and sent Wade careening off to the side, yelling.

Nightwing dropped to the ground, followed by Huntress.

"Can someone get that for me?" he quipped. Redwing picked up his club, tossing it back to him.

"Thanks," he grumbled. Nightwing nodded, but he had his attention on Wilson.

"Alright, Deadpool, what's your game?" he asked as the mercenary regained his balance. He seemed to tense at the name.

"That's not who I am anymore," he hissed. "I am Deadlock, now." Nightwing seemed to be thrown.

"Name change?" he said. "So did I. I'm Nightwing," he said, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Deadlock barked out a laugh.

"Can it be?" he asked. "Robin? Lil' Robin, of the Teen Titans?"

"Not anymore," Nightwing said, his voice hardening.

"Well, then," Deadlock said, bowing low, sweeping his katana across his body in a salute. "Have at you!"

He lunged at Nightwing, who just stood there. He made no attempt to dodge, he merely waited for Deadlock to come in close enough.

Huntress and Redwing moved as one, tackling Deadlock and pining him to the ground.

Now Nightwing joined the fray, pushing one of his gas canisters in Deadlock's mask. The small _hiss _of gas escaping was followed swiftly by Deadlock ceasing to fight back. He moaned slightly, and then passed out.

Nightwing flung him on his stomach, securing his wrists. Redwing stood up, holding two fingers to the side of his hood.

"Redwing to all Bats," he said. "Deadlock has been recovered. I repeat, Wilson has been apprehended."

_"Good work," _said Oracle's voice over all of their coms. _"Everyone return to the Bat Cave. Let's crack this nut open."_

Nightwing could have sworn he heard Deadlock giggle at this statement.


	7. Chapter VI: As Cities Burn

**Chapter VIII**

**As Cities Burn**

Nightwing stared at Wade Wilson as he sat in the chair, chained so as not to attempt escape. He knew it was more of a point than actual security, but he figured Wilson wouldn't get out of the BatCave on his own.

Cold brown eyes stared at Nightwing, straight into his mask, and, it seemed to Dick, straight into his soul. Whatever madness and mirth Deadpool had once had, Deadlock was devoid of it. He only put on a sham as a distraction. Now he revealed his hatred, pure and simple.

Nightwing cleared his throat.

"Why are you after Batman?" he asked, getting straight to the point. "Who hired you to kill him?"

Wadey laughed, a low, slow laughter that chilled Nightwing to the bone.

"I'm not," he said, clicking his tongue against his mouth to emphasize the t. "I was hired to kill Bruce Wayne. There's a difference, is there not? Two different people... one same life."

Nightwing heard Batgirl gasp through his ear piece. The others were behind a reflective glass, watching Nightwing interrogate Wilson. He too felt stunned, though he controlled his emotions better.

"What makes you think Bruce Wayne is Batman?" he asked carefully. Wadey snorted.

"C'mon!" he said, rolling his head. "It's so obvious! Well, to someone like me... I know anything I want to know. Like your name... Dick Grayson."

Nightwing's eyes widened, but his mask hid it. Wadey chuckled.

"I'll tell you everything," he said. "I'm an honest guy. But... well, I'll let you connect the dots."

"You'll tell me the truth," Nightwing guessed, "because you're sure you can fulfill your contract. Not even being captured by us can stop you."

"Got it in one," Wadey said, leaning back as far as he could. "I'm letting you hold me here. I know we're under Wayne Manor. You actually helped me out. I'm now closer to Wayne."

Nightwing was astonished by how much Wilson knew. It was frightening.

"Who hired you?" he asked, raising his voice.

"Professional courtesy," he said. "Client confidentiality." Nightwing slammed a fist into Wadey's collarbone. He didn't flinch.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" he asked. "More importantly, what was that supposed to prove?"

Nightwing growled.

"What's the difference between killing Batman and killing Bruce Wayne?" he asked, his voice sounding ever so slightly like Batman's rasp. Wadey laughed again, driving Nightwing's nerves on edge.

"Batman and Bruce Wayne are two different icons," he said. "Wayne represents industry and technology. Batman represents justice. My... employers still want that justice aspect of Gotham to remain, while striking at the heart of a possible..."

"A possible what?" Nightwing asked. He pulled out a small blade, sticking it into Wadey's shoulder. It dug in deep enough to hurt. He drew his breath in a gasp, the first reaction he had. It made Nightwing feel good.

_"Careful, Dick," _said Oracle over the com.

"Whatever happened..." Wadey gasped through the pain, "to the Boy Wonder?"

"I grew up," Nightwing snarled. "Answer the damn question, who are you working for?!"

"What..." Wadey said, "would the Titans say if they could see you know? What would Starfire say?"

This question stopped Nightwing cold. He held his knife frozen in the air, quivering slightly.

"I'll tell you one thing," Wadey said, shifting his weight a little in his chair. "This city's gonna burn. I don't want to destroy Gotham... I want to make it bleed. I want to hurt it something fierce. 'Cuz when you hate something so much, making it go away sometimes doesn't make your hate go away, does it?"

"And after Gotham... the world."

It happened in an instant. The chains holding Wadey snapped. Nightwing, caught off guard, was flung against the opposite wall. He hit the wall and landed with a crunch. He felt dazed.

"Stop him!" he shouted, seeing Wadey smash through the solid steel door that kept them both in. He watched as he tore through Batgirl, Huntress, and Redwing, and started to round a corner of the structure.

Out of nowhere a staff came, slamming into Wade's head as he ran into it. The combined forces knocking Deadlock to the ground, where he grasped his head, moaning.

Robin stepped out from behind the corner, his staff raised for another blow.

"Nice work, kid," Nightwing said, walking up to them. Wade seemed out for the count, but Nightwing knew better than to assume that. He looked at Tim, a feeling of admiration growing.

"Very nice," he repeated. "I think you've earned that costume."

Tim, Robin, beamed.

Wadey started laughing again. Nightwing growled, picking him up by his collar.

"What did you hope to accomplish by that?" he snarled, shaking Wadey forcefully. He continued to laugh, like it was all just a big joke. Maybe it was.

"You let me in," he said through sniggers. "You let me get too close to Bruce Wayne. There can be no hope for y'all now. Well, for you guys, sure, hunkered down here, safe in the reinforced BatCave. But what about the mansion, eh? What about Brucy, eh?"

Nightwing felt his insides grow cold. He dropped Wadey, who writhed on the ground, laughing his head off. Not insanely... but because he really found it funny.

Which meant...

"Titans!" he said, unconsciously. "Get to Bruce! He's in-,"

An explosion shook the cave. It also stopped Nightwing's heart as he realized it was coming from above... from the mansion.

"The mansion!" he yelled. Everyone was moving, trying to get to the elevator.

"Oh, god," Batgirl whispered, staring up in the shaft. "Oh my god."

Nightwing rushed to her, and also stared up. A fiery cloud was bearing down on them, forcing its way deeper and deeper in the shaft. That meant that there was no room in the house for it to go. That must mean...

"Everyone DOWN!" Nightwing bellowed, throwing himself on Batgirl, knocking her to the floor.

The second after, the heat wave struck, hitting the ground, and spreading throughout the Cave. Nightwing shut his eyes, holding on to Batgirl for dear life.

A large chunk of debris fell down from above. It blocked off the heat. Everything became still, but they could still hear the sound of destruction coming from above.

Nightwing got to his feet, helping Batgirl up.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, and when she nodded he looked around, raising his voice. "Is everyone okay?"

There were grunts and affirmative noises. Robin, however, was missing.

"Where's Robin?" Nightwing asked, feeling the words in his mouth and thinking that they felt weird. But then he noticed something else. "Where's Deadlock?!"

He ran to the spot where they had been. Looking around, he ran in the direction of the east wing, thinking that maybe Wadey had run off, and Robin had gone after him.

_Stupid kid... why didn't he wait for us?_

_ Oh, wait... that sounds like something I would do. I would have done the same thing._

He felt the passageway steep upwards as he made for the east exit, thinking that he heard the sounds of a fight before him.

He was right. As he burst into the open air and saw the small light of dawn in the distance, his gaze fell on Robin, who was sprawled on the grass. He looked dazed.

_Just like me and Slade, _Nightwing thought. _Oh, god, please don't go down the path I did._

Wilson was gone. Robin seemed bruised, but otherwise okay. Nightwing looked around.

If his heart had been beating fast before, it now stopped. The sight of Wayne Manor burning, for the second time in its life, was horrifying. There was no way anyone could have survived that.

_Oh no... Bruce... Alfred..._

"NOOOOOO!" he yelled into the chill morning air. He started to make his way to the burning edifice, but arms, strong ones grabbed him from behind. He tried to break free, but more arms were holding him back. He began to fight, and he barely heard the words over his rage and grief.

"...still, hey, stop it...!"

"It's no use, we need to trank him."

"Sorry, Dick..."

He felt a needle in his neck, and the edges of his vision started to darken. Everything swirled and blurred.

He didn't even feel the ground rushing up to meet him. He didn't have to.

Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth... and Batman. They were gone.

They were dead.

* * *

Deadlock looked at the mansion burning, a feeling of satisfaction growing in his chest. A smile appeared on his lips as he took it in, breathing the cool morning air that was tinged with smoke and death.

His contract was complete. Now he had some calls to make.

The first was to Tom Harrison, whose secrecy was blown to smithereens. Nothing was kept secret from Wadey Wilson. It suddenly made a lot of sense, if he thought about it. And he did.

"Mission accomplished," he said, speaking into his com. "I'll be around to pick up the money later."

_"Excellent," _Harrison said. _"But I do wish you hadn't freed Arkham like that..."_

"Tough, Mr. Secretary," Wadey said, dropping a little bomb. "My mission, my rules. Good day."

The second call was to the Joker, who was waiting in a formerly abandoned hotel with his small army of thugs.

"It's done," he reported. "Gotham is yours, gentlemen."

They would lay waste to the city, and not even the vaunted "Bat Family" could stop them.

The third call was to Slade Wilson, Deathstroke.

"Hey brother!" he said cheerfully when Slade answered. "Guess what I just did? I killed Batman!"

* * *

Batman is dead.


	8. Chapter VIII: Wings Of Night

**Chapter IX**

**Wings Of Night**

The Joker looked around at all of his men. Some were wearing masks, others were clad in bright clothing. All of them were criminally insane. His own men. His boys.

"Boys," he said, walking up and down the rows of them. "Today is the day when Gotham is made to pay for its sins. We're gonna make it pay. And there is no one... no one... to stand in our way."

He paused for effect.

"The Batman is dead."

Cheers erupted from the gang. He held up a hand to quiet them.

"You will all have fun," he assured them. "For today... we... are... chaos."

As they went wild, rushing for the door that would lead them out into the streets to cause havoc and mayhem, Joker smiled to himself.

"Introduce a little anarchy," he said quietly.

* * *

They divided themselves up into four gangs. Joker would lead one, Bane, Scarecrow, and the Riddler. He was the weakest link, so Joker had a man stationed close to him, ready to kill him in a moment's notice.

He had no doubt that the others had assassins waiting in the wings as well.

The leaders looked out on the streets. Police had arrived, and they were beginning to fill the streets. Joker chuckled.

"They have no clue," he said. "Their city will be destroyed. I love it."

"Yes, indeed," Bane agreed. "Gotham's dark knight has been vanquished. Nothing stands in our way. Although I would have liked to end Batman's life myself..."

"Don't we all?" Scarecrow pitched in. A voice from above made them all look up.

"Good! That makes this more enjoyable."

A black clad figure dropped on them all. Joker rolled his eyes.

"Again with the dropping from the sky!" he said, pulling out his gun. "This can only mean one thing."

"Yup!" said another voice, and another black figure, this one with a hood and cloak, dropped down, smashing into Bane's shoulder. "Batman may be gone, but we're here!"

"We who?" the Riddler asked. Three more figures appeared, two of them female, the last one short. Joker recognized him.

"Batman's family," he drawled. "This will be sweet."

Nightwing's hand came out of nowhere, grabbing Joker's throat.

"Don't bet on it," he snarled.

* * *

Nightwing threw the Joker away, finding strength in him he didn't think was there. Rage lent itself to him, giving him power.

He knew he was a wreck. He knew as soon as the fighting was over he would break down and might never be put together again. Now, above all else, he knew where Peter was coming from. He barely remembered his parents. Bruce had become his father.

And now he was gone.

This hole in Nightwing's life burned through him. He fought with a savage fury, blindly throwing punch after punch, barely noticing when he was hit, hardly sensing pain.

More and more of the army of criminals were converging on them. He fought back, feeling bone break under his blows.

He was going to make everyone here pay. And then he was going to find Deadlock and make his life hell.

Of course, that was only one course of fate. The other was that he himself was killed. But he didn't think it would happen.

* * *

Robin kept glancing at Nightwing out of the corner of his eye. The older teen was brutally punishing the criminals, beating them with force he winced at.

He had felt sorrow at Bruce's death, but then, he had only known him for a short time. Nightwing had known him almost all of his life.

Robin ducked under the wild swing of a thug in a clown mask. He responded with a blow from his staff, striking the foe square on the neck.

He wasn't the greatest fighter, but he was nimble enough to avoid most blows. But for every thug he took out, another three seemed to their place. The Bat family was being overrun.

For all of the advantage that they had before, it had vanished. Robin felt sure that taking out the leaders at this stage wouldn't stop the immediate problem of them dying.

Suddenly, Robin felt a grab on his cape. He felt himself being yanked away from the battle. Struggling, he tried to see who had grabbed him, but he couldn't twist around enough.

When he finally got the footing he needed to make a flip, the hand had shoved him forcefully against a wall. A face was suddenly very close, with black eyes and white and red makeup. The Joker.

"Why so serious?" he breathed, pushing a knife against Robin's throat. He tried to break free, but the Joker was stronger. "Ah, ah, ah... we don't want you to have a second, ah, _smile_, now would we?" He pushed the knife harder against Robin's skin, drawing blood. He felt the blood drip down his front, felt the pain and tried not to breathe.

"Get..." he choked. "Off."

"Not yet," the Joker said, running his tongue over his scars. "Do you want to know how I got these scars?"

"No," Robin gasped, trying to breathe in air that was being blocked by the knife. The Joker chuckled.

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "Don't judge me. Y'see, I was once like you. I was a kid once. A normal guy, you know? But all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive into lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once. Am I right?" He shook Robin. "I know I am. I can tell. You had a bad day and everything changed. Why else would you dress up like a flying rat?"

He continued to press the knife against Robin's neck. His vision was starting to blacken.

"You're just like me," the Joker went on. "A normal guy, had a bad day, and now you're trying to justify your existence by being more than what you used to be. In your case, it took the Batman. In my case, it took scars. What more proof do you need?"

"You're wrong!" Robin hissed, starting to feel weak from lack of air. "We're... nothing alike!"

"Oh, but we are," Joker said. "Almost exactly alike. We even have to fight by ourselves. On our own. With no one else."

Robin suddenly stared past the Joker, his eyes under his lenses widening. The Joker noticed his apparent distraction.

"What?" he asked. Robin smiled.

"You're wrong," he said. "I'm not alone."

The Joker looked around. Just in time for a black gauntleted fist to power its way across his jaw.

But it wasn't Nightwing or Redwing who had saved Robin. He stared in astonishment as the familiar bat ears and symbol gleamed in the light of the fires.

"Time to move, kid," rasped Batman.

* * *

I realized that I skipped a chapter. Not meaning I wrote one and forgot to post it, I mean I forgot to write the chapter. I just skipped chapter 7. Ah, well. I've kept you waiting for too long anyway.


	9. Chapter IX: Batman Returns

**Chapter X**

**Batman Returns**

Bane and Scarecrow stood back to back, fending off Huntress and Batgirl. The two females were quite good, Bane thought, but he would soon over power them, most likely without Scarecrow's help. The man was utterly useless in battle, instead preferring to use fear as a weapon. This Bane approved of, but not when blows were being exchanged.

He grabbed Batgirl, slamming her to the ground. She gasped, and he knew that he had broken at least two ribs.

"The mask only hides your identity," he said, planting a heavy boot on her chest. She sucked her breath in through her teeth. "It doesn't make you invulnerable to pain."

He pulled out a massive knife. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly.

"I will attempt to make this as painless as possible," he assured her. "You are indeed a valiant foe."

Her eyes behind her domino mask widened, but they weren't looking at him. He sighed, turning.

Scarecrow was downed, but not by Huntress. The blood froze in Bane's veins.

Batman was back. And he seemed extremely annoyed.

Bane dropped his head as Batman swung at it. He came up too soon. The cape, which seemed to be electrified, shocked him on the barest touch. For his enhanced physique, this did nothing more than hurt him temporarily. It didn't incapacitate him.

A heavy boot slammed into his midriff. Batman seemed to fight with unerring accuracy in terms of where to inflict most pain. This was normal... but there was a savagery about Batman that was unfamiliar.

Bane didn't have time to ponder this.

Two clubs fell swiftly on the back of his head, and he blacked out.

* * *

Nightwing stared at Batman. Everything was the same, the armor, the jaw that jutted out, the cold stare... but something was off. Out of the many crazy things that Nightwing had gone through, one thing was certain.

This Batman was not Bruce Wayne.

Suddenly, Wadey's words made more sense. He had been contracted to kill Bruce Wayne... not Batman. Now he knew why. Another Batman was waiting to fill in.

As many questions as that begged answering, one thing was abundantly clear. This man was not an ally.

The gangs had all run away at the sight of the imposter Batman. Now he and the Bat Family stood alone, everyone staring at him. Robin had a slight cut on his throat, and Batgirl was looking worse for wear. But everyone was dead silent.

_"Nightwing?" _said Oracle's voice. She could see through his mask that patched into a video feed. _"Am I seeing things? Are you seeing things?"_

"It's not him," Nightwing said. He raised his voice. "Who are you?!"

It perhaps wasn't the brightest thing to do. But after all Nightwing had gone through after returning to Gotham, him snapping at this final moment was maybe acceptable.

Except for that this imposter Batman seemed perfectly calm in his accusation. He even seemed to be expecting Nightwing's wild attack.

He side-stepped the wild blow easily, pushing Nightwing off balance. The others grabbed Nightwing, trying to get him to calm down. But he couldn't hear them, his blood was pounding in his ears.

"Who are you?!" he screeched. "Who are you?!"

With an animal effort, he broke free of everyone's hold and attacked the imposter. This time, not-Batman intercepted his lunge, grabbing him and throwing him aside like he was a rag doll.

It was too reminiscent of Slade treating him like a plaything when he was Robin. It only served to fuel his rage.

"Nightwing, calm down!" Robin was yelling. "Batman's just saved us!"

"He's not Batman!" he yelled. Not-Batman shook his head.

"I am, Dick," he said. "I'm Batman."

And then, before anyone could react, not-Batman swung around, shooting a sleeping agent in all of their faces. None of them could respond, none could hold their breath fast enough.

Before Nightwing hit the ground, he caught a full glimpse of the imposter's face. There was something odd about, something familiar... but before his brain could comprehend it, he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

_"... details are coming to light that Batman's return has sent many of Gotham's most dangerous criminals into hiding. Time will tell if the city can go back to calling itself 'safe.'"_

_ "Meanwhile, in other news, Gotham's favorite son, Bruce Wayne, has been reported dead. He and his butler, Alfred Pennyworth were unable to escape the second destruction of their home, and their bodies were recovered... sorry, charred beyond recognition. I'm sorry... (sniff)... but this is tragic news for the many businesses and people of Gotham."_

Dick stared at the television screen, feeling hollow inside. He had returned to San Francisco after the funeral, and had been living the past few days in a daze.

His longtime mentor and friend... the one he had become estranged with... was dead. Gone. Along with their loyal friend and butler, Alfred. The shock of this twin loss was devastating.

But more than that, his memory, the one the public would never know, was being dishonored. Someone was running around in a Bat suit, masquerading as Batman. But he could never be so, even if he did seem physically capable.

Distantly, Dick became aware of someone turning off the TV. He looked over and saw Peter, whose eyes were cast to the ground.

"So." It was one word, but one that threatened a conversation. That was something Dick just didn't want to have right now. But Peter wasn't so merciful.

"I'm sorry. I never thought things would go down like."

Dick grunted, but then felt obligated to speak.

"Wade Wilson's still alive," he said finally. Peter looked at him, a weary expression in his eyes. "He's calling himself 'Deadlock' now."

"Well, it was bound to happen," Peter said. "He killed Bruce?" Dick nodded. "Right then... we find him, and we make him pay. And we find out who this new Batman is. I have a feeling they're connected somehow."

"That's what I thought," Dick said, perking up. Planning things always made him feel better. "Speaking of new people, I met the new Robin."

"Oh?" Peter said, raising his eyebrows. "And?"

"It's a good replacement," he admitted, scratching his chin. "I'm glad that he is Robin."

"Uh-huh. Speaking of new stuff..." Dick shook his head.

"I don't think I can speak to Starfire again," he said, lowering his head. "I've really screwed things up. I don't even know which way is up some days. When I've pulled myself together somewhat, I'll talk to her."

"Good," Peter said, standing up. "At least you know you're a wreck. That's the first step."

It was. Now he had to continue through with the process.

Tomorrow was a new day. A new day full of new things in store.

* * *

Thank you, and good night.


End file.
